Last Waltz
by pen.this.rain
Summary: Repost. The bereaved Gundams' spirits strike a deal with the Powers that Be and return to Earth to play an active role in their expilots' lives. Bad summaries, angst and sexual tension ahead. Rated for safety. Please review.
1. Wing Zero: A Lesson in Anger

**Author's Note: **Repost, because the first version just sucked. Thanks to "sockpup", who gave me concrit! It was greatly appreciated and helped immensely. For everyone else, please know that this is my pet project, and it will end up having a lot of chapters. Please enjoy!

_Italics:_ Characters' thoughts or foreign words.

Definitions: _Haute couture_ is European high fashion, and _couturière_ is someone who designs and produces high-fashion clothing.

**Warnings: **OC main character. Relena-bashing in the beginning. (Stay with me! It's a momentary thing.) Politics galore.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. (Sigh...) Except for Wing; she's mine. The story's mine, too, so if you want to post it anywhere else, ask or I will sic my fluffy bunny slippers on you.

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Last Waltz

Part 1: Wing Gundam Zero

Chapter 1: A Lesson In Anger

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Wing growled, a low-frequency sound she knew from experience no one else around her could hear, and slammed her fist into the brick wall in front of her—creating a substantial indentation. Withdrawing it, jazzed on adrenaline, she didn't even flinch as she ran the hand through her dark blue hair. 

She was angry. She hated to admit it, but she was angry. She wanted to kill something. Snap something in half. Toss something off a mountain, or better yet down the Grand Canyon.

That something was Relena.

Bad enough she was royalty without the little bitch trying to get her hands all over Wing's pilot every chance she got. It was disgusting! Every time Heero stepped out the door she materialized: "Oh, Heero, where are you off to? Oh, Heero, you look so great in those shorts! Oh, Heero...oh, Heero..." GOD! It was enough to make a Gundam's stomach churn.

Which was precisely what was happening.

How could Heero possibly _stand_ her? Wing couldn't fathom it. He, the most emotionally detached person she had ever known, just stood there and took it when it would have been the easiest thing in the world to snap her neck and be through with it. Had any other one of Heero's acquaintances been doing it—with one exception—he would have killed them. But he took it from her.

Why didn't he just kill her and get it over with? Why, why, WHY!

In a surge of blind rage she slammed her entire body into the wall, _pushing_ the energy churning in her core along with it. With a final pathetic groan of buckling metal, the thing shuddered and crumbled into a pile of mortar powder and grime. That was the third one she had destroyed that day.

_Not much of a challenge, these steel-reinforced ones,_ she thought as she nonchalantly brushed brick dust from her clothing. She shook out her custom-tailored Versace skirt very gently and successfully avoided ripping the linen twill. Gentleness was a human skill she'd only recently mastered.

_Good thing it's Kevlar-reinforced_, Wing thought of the fabric in relief, fingering the herringbone pattern before inelegantly sliding the strip of black cloth on her left arm back into place. Everyone in Relena's political entourage was still in formal mourning for Dekim Barton, though the war criminal was cool enough in his grave for Wing's taste. Wing's skirt-suit was a sunny golden-yellow—as an aide with no previous association with the Barton Foundation she was not required to don full-mourning black—but she bore the required black armband.

The park around her was empty. It was Saturday and the noon hour on Colony X-18999, and Wing's trim shadow cowered close at her heels under the regard of the unforgiving artificial sun. Even though it was spring, the usually mild climate was stifling and Wing's three-piece power suit was beginning to cling stickily to her body. So much for perfect weather. _Build a fully climate-controlled space colony and the Brass invariably thinks it should mirror Earth right down to the droughts._ The shade that dripped from the large trees that dotted the gardens looked deep and cool, and promised relief from the worst of the temperature sensitivity and pain brought about by her altercation with the wall. But Wing turned away from the cold peace she saw there and assumed a bench she knew presided over a stunning view of the park's grounds.

X-18999 was primarily a Japanese settlement. The buildings were distinctly of European construction, yes, but the influence of the Japanese colonists was blatantly reflected in the sweeping Oriental landscaping that graced the inner-city preserves. And the colony's six-day work week. Today was the last eight hours before multi-national trading ceased, and all the unfortunate blue collar workers near the park were sacrificing a pleasant outdoor lunch to wring all they could from the remaining crucial four hours of the day. Wing was left to enjoy the park's beauty in solitude while she waited for Heero to emerge from his meeting with the L4-3088 rebuild project's newly elected Oversight Committee. The committee was gathered in the Cinq Kingdom's official embassy, an imposing white granite building three blocks south of the park.

Turned to silent introspection as she was, Wing was broadsided by knifing mental pain as a wedge of Power suddenly drove her soul in two. Her pilot was approaching. Winded, bright sparks dancing behind her eyes, she faltered and narrowly avoided collapsing on the bench. _I can't let him know about this reaction._ Straining her knuckles against the wrought ironwork at her back until they were raw and lily-white, _willing_ the world to stop thundering down around her head, she recovered herself—barely—spun like a cat, and was utterly composed by the time Heero rounded the corner.

He gave only a passing glance to the demolished wall. "Gwin," he nodded to her, eyes sweeping just over her head as she bowed to him.

"That went quickly," she attempted to sound cheerful, respectfully focusing her eyes on a spot near his feet. Heero was well-matched and immaculate in a somber cotton _haute couture_ three-piece suit, as befitted a member of Relena's entourage, many of whom made up the ranks of Earth's Upper Ten Thousand. There was no doubt her pilot was handsome, and Wing wished she could see more than his hands and torso, but she carefully avoided his gaze. Looking into his eyes would set off another reaction, and her hold on her composure was too thin to withstand another dose of pain.

Her pilot snorted, jaw muscles clenched, mouth a taut, hard line. "There was nothing to discuss. They were not prepared for the meeting."

"Is that it." She nodded. So his anger with the Oversight Committee had been the source of her irrational rage...not Relena. Wing's outburst had just been her folly—fueled by Heero's sudden, palpable loathing, she had lashed out at the first image that popped into her head. Shame burned in Wing's stomach. Heero had never held such negative emotions toward Relena. And his whole heart was in the L4-3088 project; no wonder he'd been angry.

L4-3088 was Duo Maxwell's home colony; a place that people having a polite conversation delicately termed "one of the colonies worst hit by the Wars." In plain language, it was a cesspit. Rebel factions in the first war had collapsed 3088's local economy and torn its vital systems apart, and OZ had seen little reason to put them back together. The few hundred miserable souls who still eked out an existence there were either too poor to leave or fighting a losing battle to revive what was beyond their means. On a visit to 3088 with Duo just weeks after Marimaia's official surrender, Heero had seen the horror-reality of life there and how it affected Duo. Now that the peace was stable, he'd convinced Relena that her next move as Prime Minister should be to start reviving what the Wars had ruined...starting with 3088.

Relena had agreed whole-heartedly with his plan, but she was only twenty and newly elected as Vice Prime Minister. Even with her family's political ties, she didn't yet wield much power in the World Nation and colony reconstruction was a risky, costly business. So, Relena had had no choice but to let the World Nation's ruling body hand-pick the Oversight Committee's members.

The Committee was, as a consequence, a mass of simpering, weak-spined, out-of-touch politicians Wing considered herself fortunate to have dealt with only once. Everyone involved with the project knew the committee members didn't care one whit about such a small, insignificant colony any more than the ruling body did. Obviously, they hadn't changed one bit in the past months, and the planning stage was not going as well as Heero expected.

Wing shook her head. They would all soon yield to Heero's will or face the combined wrath of his well-deserved political reputation and Quatre's money. But there was nothing she could do at the moment, except talk to Sandrock and pray that Heero didn't lose his temper. She touched her arm and winced. The blood vessels beneath the skin give a wrenching, tortured throb against her finger pads. Cushioned by that outpouring of energy or not, she'd still slammed herself into a wall. Several walls. And she was still human enough to bruise.

She mused on this as she tried very hard not to agitate her wounds.

"Come on, Gwin. We're going home." Her pilot turned sharply and stalked off in the direction of their apartment complex. Snatching her briefcase and coat from where she'd flung them to the ground, Wing skittered hastily after him.


	2. Wing Zero: Machine's Thoughts

**Author's Note: **Repost part II, because the original sucked. Please Read and Review if you like it!

_Italics:_ Characters' thoughts or foreign words.

Definitions: Terraformation is cultivating a livable atmosphere on other planets. Talent is another word for psionic powers (telepathy, empathy, etc). _Samsara_ is the Hindu death and reincarnation cycle.

**Warnings: **OC main character. Confusing New-Age gibberish. :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. (Sigh...) Except for Wing; she's mine. The story's mine, too, so if you want to post it anywhere else, get my permission or I will sic my fluffy bunny slippers on you.

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Last Waltz

Part 1: Wing Gundam Zero

Chapter 2: Pain Carried into the Present (Machine's Thoughts)

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In the apartment's gloomy front room, Heero lounged haphazardly across the decrepit couch, glowering as he slept. Rid of her stuffy formal clothes, Wing lay stretched out on the ancient, knotted carpet beside the sofa, drifting in the lucid white haze that the Gundams called sleep. With the ritual of long practice, she turned the day's unpleasant events over in her mind, prodding gently for any person or place that made her unsettled. In the past, the images and feelings that had sifted to the surface had brought her trouble at a later time. The hostility between the colonies and Earth was beginning to thicken with Relena's introduction of the Terraformation Project and the added strain of the Colony reconstruction, and Wing didn't want anything to surprise her—especially with so many high-powered officials under her _de facto_ protection. But for today, there were no red flags. Wing gave a mental sigh of relief and mentally prepared herself to fall into dreamless sleep. 

Gundams didn't dream. It was to be expected; they were machines...or used to be. It had never been programmed into them, to dream, and so they didn't possess the ability. Not that Wing cared. The fog they saw in its place was far more relaxing for her…you slid in and out so easily. There was no confused, opaque film to break when you awoke. Nothing to slow your reaction time.

Wing ran her injured hand over the carpet's texture and agitated the worn pile, breathing in the heady, calming smell of her pilot as she stirred the twists of fabric. The scent of cloves, mild deodorant, and the faint tang of sweat enveloped her head all-inclusively, on a level only slightly less intimate than sex. She felt the always-present aching pain leech out of her body, slightly, but even the small retreat was welcome respite from the burning in her core. It was at the times when her mind was the most quiet that the pain of the punishment the Gods had meted out surfaced in all its searing power.

The pain was fantastic in the way it held her by the throat. She was long past the point of whimpering and wishing for an end to the ache that had been her constant companion since she had been cast down to Earth. The best medical technology in the world couldn't spot its source, the highest-educated minds in the World Nation couldn't decode the parts of her mind that were making it, and Wing had signed her name in blood to the contract that said she would bear it for the term of her punishment. And she'd long known euphoria was the only thing that would bring temporary relief. Perhaps euphoria didn't work as well as morphine, but she could not afford to become addicted to painkillers. So she tried to raise her endorphin count in whatever way she could, whenever she could. If it meant hanging on to every bit of scent she could find, so be it. Without some relief, she would go insane.

A rapid shift in her pilot's body position alerted Wing to his regain of consciousness, and she scrambled out of the way as he swung his legs around and sat upright. Her chest tightened with a swirl of emotions not her own: horror, pain, sorrow. She realized Heero had been dreaming. Wing caught impressions of the dream as, in his waking, it sunk itself into the shadows of his inner mind—and realized she had seen fragments of this one before. It was a memory, but the afterimages that now flooded her sight were new ones, and they burned with desperate, heart-wrenching grief.

_The young, chubby Yellow Labrador puppy, dead, fur smoldering even under a stifling coating of fine concrete dust; _

_A tiny, severed foot's heat-blistered skin melted into its patent-leather shoe—_

_The tattered white rag pulled mercilessly by the wind—_

_Pummeled stone that wept blood, diluted in the Colony's artificial rain…the smell of seared, tortured flesh mingled with the sweetness of rot and burning asbestos—_

_Dekim's voice, screaming through the hidden complex. "I don't CARE! Who ever heard of a weapon mourning dead civilians? Re-train him NOW!"_

It was not the first time Heero had subjected himself to this torment. The same memories had been in his eyes throughout the last battle with Dekim, and in five years he had never grown immune to them. Though his body was still, she felt his mind reel with anguish. Bound to inaction by the new human emotions rippling under her skin, she carefully sat next to the ex-soldier; knowing full well that were she to touch him to bring him comfort, her punishment would be severe.

Silently, Wing despaired. She needed only to touch him to alleviate his pain, but she could not; the ability was as good as bound. This seal on her spiritual Talent was a small part of the punishment the Gods had handed down to her—karmic reparations for the atrocities she had committed during the Wars. As far as the Gods were concerned, Wing, of all the Gundams, was the worst of the war criminals. Unlike the other four machines, she had not been just an instrument of the pilots' mayhem. With her actions in the two Wars—forcing Heero and Zechs into the maddened killing sprees of the A.C. 195 war, repeatedly torturing Quatre, killing the OZ officer Trant—Wing was notorious for her past cruelty and had earned her place in the _samsara_ cycle. But that did not make the inability to relieve her pilot's suffering bearable.

Emotions too complex and numerous to name welled within her as she reviewed the sentence the Shining Lords had allotted her. _Even your master's approach shall bring you pain. You will know all his suffering. For your lifetime you shall not know a day that he does not suffer—but to lay a hand on him in aid shall mean hurt for both souls. Know the agony you have been party to, and live your life in its shadow!_ The first pain of her mortal life had been the indescribable, all-encompassing agony of the Holy Scribe's stylus engraving the words of the Sentence onto every bone of her body.

Wing had writhed and screamed like a person dying in the fires of war, but the stylus's razor-sharp point calmly found its mark between her spasms. The scribe was mute, but Wing realized on her own that the record was long, horribly long, and fighting the demigod would only lengthen the time he took copying the words. Eventually she'd subsided in favor of ending the torment sooner. Keeping her body still had been more than she could bear. Assaulted as she had been, the Gundam nonetheless heard the Shining Ones' final pronouncement before she was flung naked to Earth. _You shall forget this not, Wing Gundam Zero. Carry out your sentence, and return to Us to be judged again._

Wing glanced up at her pilot, wondering if he sensed any of what she was feeling. Wing knew from speaking with Sandrock that the connection between Gundam and Pilot could work both ways, if the pilot was receptive. But no. Heero had fixed his attention on the ill-used, dejected television set in the opposite corner…there was no sign that he had heard her. As usual.

Abruptly and inexplicably weary, she joined the ex-soldier in staring into the lifeless gray of the screen. She didn't forget the memory of her Judgment or of her uncomfortable situation with Heero, but this focus was mindless like forgetting, and she fell into it. A beautifully fragile, shroud-like calm descended in the darkened room.

The world was full dark, and the blue neon nightclub sign across the street flickered into life. Ultramarine light streamed through the grubby windows and bathed the carpet and walls in an intermittent, ethereal blue. The sweet, longing voice of a baritone sax, entwined with the phosphorescent glow, echoed off the silent buildings and mourned its way through the glass. Wing recognized the timbre: Nikolai, the gifted, flirty saxophonist in the apartment one block down, warming up for his nightly session at the club. As her pilot sank deeper into his thoughts, Wing's focus turned even deeper into herself until she lost all sense of her human body. Heero's pain was a beacon she was aware of even from far away, and searing in its intensity. Not even Nikolai's gut-stirring, plaintive strains of jazz could more than graze the ex-Gundam pilot's wounded heart. Wing focused on that wound, watched it grow like a disease, as she did practically every hour she was awake and many she wasn't.

The sudden knock on the door what seemed like hours later shocked Wing terribly and sent both she and her pilot careening away from their meditation. Wing sat and mentally gasped for breath, but Heero, long used to rude awakenings, pulled himself together instantly.

"Who is it?" He snarled, applying the deadly tone that usually had unwanted solicitors fleeing the door in terror.

No such luck.

"It's Relena!" A familiarly perky voice sang from behind the door.


	3. Wing Zero: Early Visitor

**Author's Note: **The third piece of the entire document. More to come. R&R muchly appreciated!

_Italics:_ Characters' thoughts or foreign words.

**Warnings: **OC main character. Stuff that looks like Relena-bashing, but isn't.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. (Sigh...) Except for Wing; she's mine. The story's mine, too, so if you want to post it anywhere else, ask or I will be forced to hunt you down and assault you with Vogon poetry.

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Last Waltz

Part 1: Wing Gundam Zero

Chapter 3: Early Visitor

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Wing sat bolt upright, suddenly and uncomfortably back in her body. _How…why…she's two hours early!_

"Heero, don't you remember our date at eight tonight?" She continued, oblivious to Wing's thoughts, "I just came by to visit until our shuttle is ready!"

Mind still whirling, the Gundam cringed. Remember? It was impossible to forget. Relena had taken to reminding them of it on a daily basis. This "date" was an official function for the Cinq Kingdom, and part of Relena's World Pacifism campaign. As the first step of her master plan, she had invited the warlords of fractured New Tanzania to one of Earth's most opulent restaurants to hash out a peace treaty over a formal six-course meal.

The World Nation Government had declared the War over and world peace restored immediately after Marimaia's surrender. But in truth, the peace was no more global than the President was more than a figurehead. Many nations were still embroiled in vicious wars. Fighting those wars without Mobile Suits, yes, since the factories had been shut down. But the lack of Mobile Suits hardly bothered them, or kept countries' governments from eyeing their neighbors as sources of new territory and resources.

Without the extensive network of treaties and alliances Relena had brokered, the Cinq Kingdom was pathetically defenseless against enemy invasion. New Tanzania, especially, had been hovering too close to Cinq's borders for anyone's comfort. Relena knew damn well she had to build the peace from a position of power…and Heero was a convenient trump card. No one had forgotten his successful single-man assault on the Presidential Residence in A.C. 196. And four years later, he was still an intimidating man. New Tanzania would respect his strength—or at least, his potential to do them great harm. Bringing Heero to this dinner was therefore convenient, not only because of the good it would do Cinq during the signing of the treaties, but because Relena had an absolutely valid excuse to get close to Heero that would leave none the wiser to a teenage crush only grown stronger over the years.

Relena's political supporters fully approved of her savvy escort choice. They knew that with Heero and the other Gundam pilots backing Relena, the leaders of the other nations wouldn't dare break the peace. Relena's political strength was growing as she got older, and having Heero as her personal bodyguard was proving to be a way of rapidly boosting her public approval rating. If this dinner was successful, Cinq would get the protection from New Tanzania it desperately needed and Relena would again be lauded for her brilliant politics.

Wing had dutifully stepped aside, as she always did. She'd fought hard for that peace, died for it, and she'd be damned if she wouldn't move aside for Relena tonight simply because the Vice Prime Minister had more than altruistic reasons to hang on Heero's arm. If Relena wanted Wing's pilot, she'd have him…if only for the dinner. Heero would never, could never, give her more. His heart was all ready focused on another.

Relena tapped on the door again, a little louder, when Heero still failed to respond. Wing struggled to keep her face impassive as she fought off dismay that lacked a visible source. She turned to her pilot, hoping he would know why Relena was at the door so soon.

"Why is she so early?"

Heero pitched his voice low enough that Relena couldn't hear it through the door. "You think I know everything the damned woman thinks?"

"But…" Wing let the words die, but finished the thought in her head, where he was certain not to hear it. _But you _have_ to know. She shares everything with you. So why would she be here if she hadn't consulted you first?_

The Gundam rumbled low in her throat as the repressed memory of a strange phone conversation with Relena, three weeks before, inopportunely surfaced. And immediately, Wing grasped the reasoning and mechanics behind Relena's premature arrival. Relena had tried to get Wing out of the way so she could have the hour or so before the flight to Earth alone with Heero. Tonight she was going to try to seduce Wing's pilot, and fulfill a dream she'd been entertaining since the day the two had met. The revelation, like great, lead weight, tied itself to Wing's stomach and dragged it down.

"How are we going to handle this, sir?" She asked instead, throat suddenly dry.

Heero didn't respond, and Wing felt the first twinges of real fear shudder down her spine.

Years before Heero had agreed to appear with Relena in public, both for the good of her country, which had valiantly sheltered him from enemy eyes for most of the first War, and the peace he'd worked so hard to gain. He was compelled by his strict code of honor to repay the Cinq Kingdom's courage and dedication; and Relena, as its sovereign ruler, had everything to do with this obligation. However, it was in tribute to her people, _not_ for the sake of her love, that Heero had taken staggering amounts of abuse for her in the past.

Relena didn't understand this. The princess-diplomat been enamored of Heero for years, and took his protectiveness as a sign of his affection. In the years since Wing's destruction Heero had grown from a striking boy into a heart-breakingly beautiful man, and no straight woman on this Colony had failed to notice it. Every week packages appeared on his doorstep—hand-made suits from the Colonies' best _couturières_, expensive colognes, home décor items, flowers, and lately, chocolates—mostly from Relena, tokens of her love. He refused all of it, whether the packages came from Relena or not. He was polite and distant and nothing more when he spoke with her. But still Relena chased him, and no other girl was as persistent as she was. She was obsessed with making the ex-Gundam pilot and the person first in Wing's heart "hers" unconditionally.

And if Heero didn't want her? Why, as unlikely as that scenario was, the remedy was obvious…she'd simply twist Heero's oath of honor, the same way he twisted assassins' arms. Wing remembered Relena's smile as she explained, "…It's either that or kill me, and I know I'm too important a figure to be his target anymore…"

But her persistence was beginning to grate on even Heero's steel nerves. The announcement of Heero's duty selection months before this dinner came back to Wing. The Gundam had to marvel at how perfectly arranged Relena's dangerous little subplot had been, and was equally forced to applaud the girl's dogged persistence. For five years she'd been chasing Heero, and for five years the mercenary had avoided, shrugged off, and even flat-out refused her advances with a patience and grace Wing had yet to master.

But Wing also knew Heero was human, and his patience had limits. Playing Relena's lover for the sake of world peace was one thing. Making good on the façade was nowhere in his plans.


	4. Wing Zero: Push Too Far

**Author's Note: **The fourth piece, revamped a bit. More to come. R&R muchly appreciated!

_Italics:_ Characters' thoughts or foreign words.

**Warnings: **OC main character. Foul language.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. (Sigh...) Except for Wing; she's mine. The story's mine, too, so if you want to post it anywhere else, ask or I will find it in my heart to hunt you down and make you pay. >:)

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Last Waltz

Part 1: Wing Gundam Zero

Chapter 4: Push Too Far

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On the stoop, Relena, her hair swept up in a dramatic Roman-style coif, turned her Cupid's-bow lips down into a half-frown, half-pout. Her stilettos, antique Ferragamo sandals that complemented her evening gown, clicked impatiently on the landing's metal grating. Unlike she'd anticipated, Heero had _not_ scrambled to open the door for her. Then again, the gorgeous man never scrambled for anything…except to throw himself in front of her when her life was in danger. She rapped on the door again, more insistently. "Heero? May I come in?" Her voice was so thick with need and desire that it all but choked the words. 

Wing looked to her pilot. He was immobilized where he sat, hand creeping toward his jacket, clearly torn between evading Relena's attentions for the two hours until dinner and the appealing desire to shoot her on sight…neither of which was a realistic possibility for escaping the girl's heated ambitions. With Relena left alive to host the banquet, that was.

There was an audible, resolute sigh from the porch and Relena attempted to soothe Heero from where she stood, as one would placate a child. It helped to sooth her own twittering nerves. "Heero, relax. Don't worry about it. Everything will be fine…I'm coming in."

Wing realized with mortification that the girl was really going to follow through with her brilliantly laid, but woefully miscalculated plan. And she remembered too belatedly that Heero had given Relena a copy of his apartment key, so that were she ever in danger she could fall back to the safety of his safe house, weaponry and expertise. The Gundam froze, and the skin on the back of her neck prickled in horror as she watched the deadbolts snap back and the doorknob rattle its way to opening.

The unmistakable _click_-_shinkclick_ of a semiautomatic being prepped to fire caught her attention, and Wing realized with a shock that Heero had made his decision. And it wasn't to put up with the princess. In a scenario that had plagued both Wing's darkest nightmares and her happiest dreams, the high-powered pistol Heero always kept at his side had transferred to his hand and was now leveled at the slowly opening door.

_Oh god. Oh, god! Heero, NO! _Without a moment's hesitation, she shouted her pilot's name. As he whirled to face her, she pulled down the collar of her sweater to expose her shoulder, pinned his body to the corner of the couch, took his face in her hands -- "Please forgive me...!"

-- and kissed him.

In a flurry of confusion and surprise, the pistol clattered to the floor and Heero's hands flew to Wing's waist to force his release. Wing resisted and kept her mouth stubbornly interlocked with his, tensing her back to ensure he couldn't pry her away and reach the gun.

At that precise moment, Relena walked through the door. "Heero, I—"

The blonde stood for a heartbeat, then reeled back as her brain fully processed what she was seeing, cracking her spine against the doorframe. Stunned to silence by the radiating pain, Relena watched her confidant and more-than-friend of three years passionately embrace his secretary…noting in horror as he touched the girl's body in ways Relena had so long hungered for, as the perfect, strong hands wrapped around the girl's waist and pressed into her milky skin, as the girl's nude shoulder arched with the pleasure of the kiss. Her mouth worked in shock.

Heero was dumbfounded; dazed and confused by the foreign emotions and sensations that now assaulted him. Gwin's warm fingers traced a gentle line along the plane of his jaw, and before his astonished eyes the room suddenly glittered and burst into a dazzling array of colors. There was a twinge somewhere in his mind, but before Heero could turn his attention to the alien feeling a wave of sexual desire crested over him and crashed behind his eyes, nearly choking him with its intensity. For a split-second he wondered, "Is this what it's like to be kissed?"

Not resisting any longer, he kissed her back fiercely as Relena looked on.

Slowly, deliberately, Wing released him, and smiled. Orbital. Just…orbital. The women on this colony were right to tremble as Heero walked by. Mind foggy, nearly forgetting why she'd grabbed Heero in the first place, she turned her expression on Relena.

Relena stood, utterly dumb for a moment, and still unable to call the words she desired ran screaming from the apartment, slamming the door behind her. Wing sighed in relief as the deterred and blessedly hale-and-hearty girl pounded her way down the metal staircase, to the street.

Heero glowered at Wing's innocent expression and stood violently, knocking her back onto the couch. The emotions and sensations were abating far too quickly, and he was becoming more awake with every new thought that assaulted him. He stalked to the street-side window and ripped the curtains aside. Far below, Relena's bowed figure fled along the orange-tinted sidewalk, shadowed by her obviously baffled transport. She was plainly in tears--

Back ramrod straight, Heero turned back to Gwin. "Why did you do that!" He demanded savagely.

Wing paused too long; winced as she felt the spark of anger coil in his chest and burst into rage, burning the effects of the kiss away. It was a fully sober, confused and enraged Heero that bore down on her.

She had well and truly fucked up this time. Wing looked everywhere but into his face, and tried to swallow her building panic. His tone of voice told her enough. There was no way she could explain the real reason to him--and telling him "No reason" would almost certainly get her shot.

So she choked out the only answer left. "You drew your gun on her."

Wing was no fool. She knew that she'd just reproached a man her social superior. Especially considering her relationship with Heero—not his lover, barely his friend—what she had just said was tantamount to treason. Frightened now, fully aware that there would be no diffusing the situation this time, she left the words dangling. But it was still enough. Heero's anger exploded brilliantly. White-hot sparks flew behind Wing's eyes, bright as any pain the Shining Ones had ever dealt her. But his voice was low and ominously soft; three words that were perfectly saturated with his rage as he leaned close to her.

"How _dare_ you."

He was so close his breath brushed across her face. Facing the man who she had witnessed kill hundreds, _knowing_ that he was contemplating killing her now, the human part of Wing's mind dropped into sudden, absolute terror. And with that, her control just shattered.


End file.
